


The Inbetween

by Azehcaz



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azehcaz/pseuds/Azehcaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drivel from between quests between the Inquisitor and party members. Head cannon for what I imagine my Inquisitor gets up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jumping.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. First time writer, long time reader. Had some spare time on a flight, so I decided to put some stuff together. I guess everything is gonna be fairly short because I wrote everything on an old iPod touch. So I apologise for any and all typos. Done my best to ferret most of them out, but you know how it is.
> 
> This first one is fairly short, but they will get longer. Basically, when I play, I have a bad habit of jumping off things. Especially in Skyhold where I can't die. 
> 
> Anywho, wish me luck!

"Sweet Andraste! Must you jump off everything?" Two purple eyes peered up impishly at her from two stories below, the flash of white against his dark skin telling her he was grinning. "And why must you always look so pleased with yourself! You won't look that pleased when one day you break your neck! Vivianne will just step over your body with a snarky comment about how she 'told you so'."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Cass. You know I love you, but must you always suck the fun out of everything? Knowing how to roll out of a fall from that high up might one day save my life. Or yours. Besides, look at me. Not a scratch!"

To an onlooker, it was one of the most bizarre things the Inquisitor had ever said. His face alone held two or three distinctive scars, his body more so. To say he didn't have a scratch on him was possibly the lie of the century which also accounted for Cassandra's undignified yet trademark disgusted snort.

"Herald, your face is the tapestry for some of the biggest scratches Thedas has ever seen."

"And here was me thinking that you thought they made me roguishly handsome, just like the men out of your favourite novel. That is the reason I've been collecting them, you know."

She glared at him, causing a few of the armoury hands to start to sidle towards the doors. This is normally when a wooden practice dummy would die.

"Leliana told me what you were doing this morning! Don't even try to deny it!"

The big man swallowed, holding his hands up in a surrender position.

"C'mon now. It wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't that bad? Inquisitor, you swung off the battlements next to Cullen's office, onto the roof of the stables and then jumped onto the ground! You were lucky to stick the first landing!"

"Nonsense! I'd had enough practice to know..." He trailed off, swallowing, realising too late what he'd said.

"Practice?" Her voice was dangerously low. Richard decided that perhaps his soldiers had the right idea and sped for the door. He'd come back later, maybe placate her with some flowers and chocolate. In the mean time, he was sure Sera or Josephine could hide him. At least until the dragon hunter calmed down. He could hear hear her after him and he quickly put on a burst of speed, disappearing around the corner before he could be found. Andraste's tits, that woman quite frankly terrified him.


	2. Camp Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After setting up camp on the way back from completing Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. Bull's chargers have cracked open a cask or four and the stories are flowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Part two... I'm gonna try and keep it as cannon as I can, but I could suck and this could be shocking so.... Yeah... Again. Off of a mobile phone. I will try and keep the typos and whatnot to a minimum. If you find any, though, let me know and I will fix them asap.

"Hey Boss! Get us another while you're up!"

Richard barely ducked the tankard that was thrown at his head, turning to raise a brow at the Qunari who, in turn, raised his own back as he shrugged. "What? I'm thirsty. You're closest. Otherwise I woulda made Krem get it." 

"Right,"  frowning, Richard bent to pick up the container, looking at it and then his own before looking back at The Iron Bull. "Bull, how exactly did you get the biggest tankard?" 

"Have you looked at me recently, boss? Last time I checked, I was bigger than you," at his words, Sera gave a snort. 

"Wot. You two been floppin' them out and measurin' or somethin'?"

Shaking his head, the Inquisitor dutifully filled the tankards, moving back towards The Bull. "Next time, perhaps steal a tankard that _doesn't_ have the Trevelyan coat of arms on it." he smirked as he handed it over, Bull just laughing. 

"You do not need that amount of alcohol, Inquisitor. I gave the Qunari your mug," The Seeker spoke up as she poked the fire, causing the Inquisitor to spin around, looking at his lover, his expression one half of hurt, half of amusement. "I don't think we have all yet forgotten the last time you were drunk." 

"Ah yes. I remember it well," Varric chimed in, finally moving his attention off of Bianca and to the group. "It was only a few weeks after becoming the Herald that our dear noble friend here decided that he could take Sera in a drinking contest." 

Richard rolled his eyes, swinging past the fire to hook the Seeker around the waist before sitting drown, yanking an indignant Cassandra into his lap. She squawked at him, trying to wriggle free, but he put his drink down, effectively caging her as he spoke. "Must we really relive that?" he asked, half laughing as Cassandra tried to break his grip before giving up, slumping broodily in the circle of his arms. 

"I will get you for this later," she whispered, twisting enough to put her lips to his ear, the vicious promise causing him to laugh nervously before her voice became louder. "Yes. We must. I think sometimes our Inquisitor forgets that he is not immortal."

"Well. If this is Seeker sanctioned, then let me begin!" Varric stood up, clearing his throat.

~~~

"C'mon, Herald. You're only ten drinks in!" Varric laughed at the dark skinned man, who's head was currently in his arms, face down on the table. The elf next to him sniggered.

"He's definitely less shiny, less glowy like this," Sera informed the dwarf, who chuckled. "C'mon, Inquisition. Coryphinus will wipe the floor with you if this is all you can drink!"

Groaning, the Herald of Andraste looked up at them, shaking his head. "You are both terrible people, you know that?" he spoke very slowly, desperately trying to enunciate his words. "Alright. C'mon. Where is it?" He'd just begun to reach out for the next tankard when the door swung open, revealing a very annoyed Seeker, flanked by Sister Nightingale.

"Varric! What is the meaning of this?" the right hand of the Devine glared at the dwarf. 

~~~

"...which is when our dear Inquisitor decided to show signs of life," Varric continued. "With great effort he jumped up, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear and he proclaimed loudly 'By the Maker, Cassandra. You are beautiful!' or at least, that's what we think he said, anyway. After that he sorta collapsed into a heap on the ground, mumbling incoherently as Cassandra turned the colour of our dear Spymaster's hair." With a flourish the author stopped speaking, taking a small bow as Sara and Bull applauded, Richard resting his head on Cassandra's shoulder, the latter having accepted her capture, now lying back nestled in against the Trevelyan male's chest. 

"Speaking of which," Richard picked up his tankard, holding it up into the air. "Why does the right hand of the Devine not have one of these?" he pressed a small kiss to the Seeker's neck, finding a hand almost immediately in his face, pushing him away. 

"Because someone here needs to be sober," she informed him, shaking her head. He laughed again, pressing his lips against her once more, grinning as this time, she didn't push him away. 

"Leliana," the herald turned his attention to the red head. "You're a bard. Surely you could tell us a story?"

"Well, if you insist. There's one from the Orlesian court that I remember well. It's about a Duke and his eight wives..."

Settling back further into the shadows as the story progressed, Richard's arms wrapped tighter around his Seeker's waist, and unseen by anyone else, one of her hands slipped into his, her small smile hidden by the darkness. 


End file.
